A Different Hurt

Written by RJ on October 30, 2013. Posted in Healing

I have been revisiting many memories in my posts and articles here and in some ways I know that’s helping me with my healing. But in other ways it’s like cutting off a limb to save my life. I hope the result is worth it, but the process is brutal. The blog is a healer for me though. It’s a weapon I have to attck my loss with. When I write an article or even a sentance about Coleen that I feel is worthy, it gives me comfort to know that I am not just sitting back and taking this. That I have the means and the memories and the Kleenex to stand up to the pain and fight back. Words can be a powerful thing. I hope tears are, too.

My daughter Lindsay told me last night that things have been getting to her more recently. She lives a busy life and sometimes doesn’t have time to just sit down and grieve. In the car she has solitude and that’s where the emotions can be strongest for her. Her little girls, Samantha and Claire are adorable and being 4 and 2 years old, it’s hard to predict what they might think or say. The girls know that Grandma Coleen is in some place called heaven but they don’t know what that means. They know she died and they won’t be seeing her again. They don’t really understand that either. Last night I was visiting them and Claire, the 2 year old, had an orange. She held it up to Lindsay and said “Mama, just like Grandma,” because when Coleen would babysit, she always brought a supply of food and always had oranges that she shared with the girls. To hear things like that is a different hurt. It’s so sweet coming from her mouth but so bitter in context. Coleen would be happy I think, to know that her granddaughter associated her with a piece of fruit.

My brother Jim called me from Cleveland a couple days ago. I was in still in Ft. Lauderdale and he was worried about me. He was anxious for me to be home where I would be safer. On that phone call, he was grieving. Jim and I have always been close but even more so the past few years. He visited Buffalo often and had a lot of love for Coleen. As much as I tried to recognize how her loss effected everyone, often my own suffering would take priority. Jim was with me the entire weekend of Coleen’s services and was a champion of support to me and still is. But he suffered a tremendous loss as well. I know he grieved then but I also think it’s hitting harder now, just like those in the know said it would.

Think what you may about the afterlife. I am a strong believer, even stronger now. Coleen had a very special and gifted friend and adviser named Jillian who I will talk about in much greater detail later on in the blog. She deserves an article of her own. Jillan believes that the spirit of the deceased is strong for the first few weeks then gets busy with other things and becomes dormant to us after about a month. The spirit then returns to be more active. That time frame seems to fit and if a spirit kindles sadness and emotion, that might explain why our loss feels a little stronger for us these days.

I moved Coleen’s urn yesterday. It was on the dining room bookshelves. It still is but I moved it to the windowseat there where we get a healthy dose of afternoon sun. Sometimes Coleen would stand in front of that window and let the sun bathe her in light and warmth. It seemed her urn should be getting that, too. She also had some plants on that windowseat and they now surround her urn. There is one hanging plant, I don’t know what it’s called, that always annoyed me because it got so long that it dragged on the floor. She started it out as something much smaller and it took off. I have been paying speacial attention to that plant now making sure it get’s proper water and sunlight. It is no longer an annoyance to me but has became part of my memories. The urn is almost under that plant now, touched by random leaves and growth. Like they’re watching out for each other.

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